Pink Neon Lights
by NarayanFX
Summary: He had a bad habit of doing this lately; loosing control. Reno thoughts and drabble set during his early days as a Turk. Very dark & experimental. Rated M for various mature themes. Please read & review!


**Disclaimer:** FF7  & its' characters belong to Square. This story belongs to me.  
 **A/N:** Fair warning, this is dark, kind of experimental and for mature audiences only: violence, sex and drugs. I've been wanting to write a young, misguided Reno and what the fast life of a Turk might be like for him. Please R&R!

-xx-

 **Pink Neon Lights**

He had a bad habit of doing this lately; loosing control. Reno remembered how he continued to bash the skull in of the unlucky bastard that the bone was starting to flatten into the concrete with the rest of the flesh, membrane and blood. The target was obviously eliminated as Rude pointed out, but the release felt good. He should of went straight home and showered, because he looked like he came from hell and back, and people were giving him strange looks. But doing so would go against his tradition of a successful completion of a mission. With a ripped, blood-soaked suit and bruised fingers he was sitting alone at the Honey Bee Inn, sipping on his Junon Ale waiting for his favorite raven-haired girl from the Slums.

 _Dark rooms. Perfume. Whiskey. Pink Neon Lights._

Reno wasn't a bad man, maybe misunderstood. Yet he couldn't deny that someone on the outside would never be able to see that, even if they got beyond the crass way about him. He liked simplicity. He had a heart of gold. He would take a bullet for the people he loved in a blink of an eye. But on the outside people just saw the pristine, glimmering suit and assumed he was bad news. Reno was made to wear that navy suit as soon as he put it on when he turned eighteen. A troubled kid from the Sector 7 Slums that was meant to continue living in that hellhole; a kid never to amount to anything. Ironic, he was swimming in pools of gil now, dirty, bloody Shinra gil. Reno didn't mind his Slum's past; it was the only reason he could do this kind of work. It was the only reason he was still alive. He would often take missions in the slums. Brought him back to his roots, and the girls were still the easiest to fuck there; they would get wet if you just smiled at them a certain way. Reno smirked at the thought.

"Ready for you," she whispered opening the door with a dime bag of crystallized white powder in her hand.

She was wearing bright red lipstick which matched her freshly manicured red nails. Rufus was the one who originally told him about the membership. Pay a monthly fee and whichever girl you wanted was exclusively yours for as long as you wanted. He found her when she was new. Not too used up yet. The first time he fucked her he felt strange. Maybe guilty. She was young. _Barely seventeen._ So he kept her exclusively his; in Reno's mind he was protecting her, as fucked up as that was. She endearingly started calling him 'big red' which stirred something in his tar-black heart.

"Sweetheart, you know what to do," he commanded gently as he shut the door behind him.

She bit her crimson lip as she sat on the edge of the dingy bed with cheap sheets. Her legs wide open, just waiting for him to get inside of her. Reno needed this to take the edge off. The adrenaline he would experience during missions was becoming too much. It helped him sleep better at night. _The nightmares._ He didn't like that he was doing someone's dirty work. But he liked what that came with. Off her white lingerie went revealing all of her caramel colored skin. She licked her finger and placed it in the bag of powder, gently placing some of it on Reno's split lip. He licked the substance as she dragged the rest of the powder from her navel down to the perfectly waxed oasis between her thighs.

 _Snort. Inhale. Breathe._

Life or death mission and off to the races he would go _._ No time to think. Could be your last breath. Reno knew it wasn't normal for his hands to be shaking as he undid his belt buckle, but his nerves were shot. It came with the work. Within thirty-two seconds of snorting the white dust he felt euphoric. _The guilt leaving his system._ He embraced the good with the bad. He didn't like having to kill people, but it was his job. Reno wasn't a bad man. Maybe he was. He didn't care as he continued to thrust into her. Harder. Faster. If there was one thing Reno knew, is that he loved his unconventional, misunderstood life with every beat of his heart.

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End file.
